


So Now Get Up

by Lilander



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Force Ghost(s), Good boy sweaters, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Literally re-writing the end of the movie, Tros fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilander/pseuds/Lilander
Summary: In light of evidence that TROS looked different before an edit, here's my dream version of what the end of the script looked like before they made *that* happen. Sticks pretty close to the movie, so expect the same locations and shots with some added dialogue. The usual Star Wars mix of angst, fluff, and the goofiest silliness....oh, and smut in chapter 2, because we deserve it and so do they.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 99
Kudos: 1020
Collections: TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics





	1. Chapter 1

“What happens now?” Ben asks the ghost of his uncle.

"Now?"

“I'm dead. Jedi go into the Force, but I’m not a Jedi. Is there a hell for people like me?”

“I expected you to be bitter,” Luke says.

Bitterness, anger. That belongs to the dark side. Ben should have given it up when he hurled that lightsaber in to the water. But it’s not so easy, redemption, and if Ben's good at anything it's disappointing Luke Skywalker.

Ben ignores his uncle and turns to the living world, the world that really matters. Rey is there, through a kind of frosted mystical glass, cradling his body and saying his name. _Be with me, be with me, Ben, please, be with me._

Is this really kinder? To leave her alive as one half of a broken dyad, half a soul?

Yes.

Rey has done everything right. Rey _is_ the Jedi, the worthy vessel, and Ben was never worthy of anything, least of all her.

This is the only way.

“I made my choices,” Ben says.

“She’s crying,” Luke points out.

Like Ben doesn’t know she’s crying, like whatever passes for his heart in this world-between-worlds isn’t shattering at the sight of her bending over his broken body.

Ben shakes his head. He’s standing, somehow, and he turns away, toward wherever it is the Force will allow him to go next.

“She’s better off without me,” Ben says.

“Ben.” Luke’s voice rings out in the Force. “You asked me once if I came to save your soul.”

“And you promised me once that you’d always be with me,” Ben says. “But you weren’t.”

With his back to Luke’s ghost, he gestures toward the pit the Emperor threw him into. The one he crawled out of all by himself.

For _decades,_ he begged for help. But no one came and no one’s coming now. What’s done is done, and Ben is what he always deserved to be: alone.

But so is Rey.

The old anger stirs: _he_ deserves this, h _e_ will take whatever comes. But all Rey has ever wanted was belonging, and he took it away.

“Ben, I screwed up.”

“No you didn’t. You saw what I was. You knew it was too late.”

“It was never too late, sweetheart. It’s still not too late. Your dad knew that.”

The voice isn’t Luke’s, and when he turns around, he’s stunned to realize that his dead spirit can still choke. His mother looks so young. The ghost before him is the woman who let him braid her hair, not the ragged General from grainy intelligence images.

“Mom,” he says, hoarse despite his incorporeality.

“It’s good to see you, Ben.”

“I—I tried.”

“I know, baby. You did good.”

“You died.”

“Ben,” she says, and she rests her blue-tinted hand on his cheek, chasing the outline of the scar Rey healed. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do better for you. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Ben can’t speak, so he lets his eyes settle on Rey. She’s lost all hope, collapsing on his chest while the temple breaks apart around her. As he watches she does what he did in those desperate moments: she looks beside her, behind her, ready to call for help, wondering if anyone will bother to come, knowing they won’t, because both of them have always been abandoned.

“What happens to her now?” he asks, and he knows this anger belongs to the dark side but he can’t keep it in.

It’s not _fair._ Rey deserves better.

“I tried to help her, but now she has to live like this,” he says, “and it’s my fault.”

“No,” Leia says. She pulls him into her arms, and he falls around her, squeezing. “You’ve both suffered so much already.”

“Ben,” says a voice over her shoulder. Ben opens his eyes to see a young man, long-haired and cocky.

 _Now_ he shows up?

It feels wrong to call him _grandfather._

“Anakin.”

The man nods, too grave and too sad for someone so young. “I tried to reach you,” he says, “but the Emperor—he was always stronger than I was. And your hate was too strong. I think you heard me, sometimes, but we couldn’t get through to you. None of us could.”

_Us._

The world beyond his mother’s shoulder blooms vibrant blue, and thousands of faces materialize out of the dark. _I am the Jedi,_ Rey said as he struggled to get up. The Jedi are here.

“We live in you, Ben,” Anakin says. The solemnity makes Ben want to hit him.

“How unfortunate for you, then, that you waited to come until I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead, kid.”

His father appears, snaking his hand roguishly into his mother’s.

“You’re a memory,” Ben accuses.

“Not this time.”

Two women appear, both reaching up to take Anakin’s hand. One, young and radiant, the other, older, wiser, radiating pain and wisdom and love. He feels a kinship with her. She feels abandoned.

But the younger woman—his grandmother—smiles as Anakin reaches out to embrace her, and the older woman beams.

Shmi. Ben knows the name from the recesses of his memory, just as he knows the name of every ghost standing here. They’re with him. They’re in him.

Too late.

“It’s time to get up, sweetheart,” his mother says.

Ben shakes his head. This is another trick.

His whole life he’s been alone, and every time he’s dared to hope it’s only led to pain. This is Palpatine’s hell-world after all, and these aren’t Jedi, they’re Sith. He’s dead, Rey will suffer, and it’s his fault.

“Kid,” his father says, reaching out to pat his shoulder. Ben feels peace. He resents it, and resents it even more when his father gestures at Rey. “You better look sharp. That girl’s probably gonna kiss you when you open your eyes.”

“Don’t,” Ben begs the darkness. An eternity of hell, he can stand. It’s hope that would break him. “Please.”

“Ben,” he mother says in his ear. “Wake up. It’s time.”

Ben closes his eyes in despair.

When he opens them, there’s a battle raging above, and Rey’s body is heavy on his.

He feels—full. Not alone. Safe.

_Please let this be real._

_Please, please._

Rey’s shirt is tacky with sweat and blood under his fingers. Her face is marred with dirt, her hair damp as he tucks it behind her ear.

If this isn’t real this is the most beautiful dream, the cruelest nightmare.

“Rey,” he whispers.

She freezes, like she can’t believe it either. She’s been abandoned too many times before.

Her eyes are red, swollen, searching his, looking for some sign.

“Is this real?” she asks him. Her nose hovers above his, her hands stroke his face.

“I hope so.”

Her eyes flutter closed, then open, exhausted but amused.

“Who dies now?”

Ben, despite himself, snorts. “I think we’re both half-dead,” he says. “Balance.”

Rey’s face comes to rest beside his, cheek-to-cheek, completely spent. “That feels about right,” she murmurs.

His mother’s face, blue, smiles above him. _Good luck, sweetheart. Be happy._

_***_

Rey wakes to the beeping of the hyperdrive coming offline. Space floods black around her, the planet comes into view, and Rey sucks in a breath as she maneuvers to check on Ben.

Modifying the astromech compartment of the T-65 to shove Ben’s unconscious body into it wasn’t easy, especially with a raging headache, but it’s all she could manage before she set a course and passed out. Ben’s gonna be sore when she unfolds him, but better sore than dead.

She starts the orbital sequence, then leans back against the hard seat.

Leia’s gone. Whatever’s left of that huge fleet probably doesn’t approve of the First Order. What will they do to the Supreme Leader, unconscious and weak?

And Ben…Ben has done so many things. The Force might be ready to forgive him, Rey might be, but the galaxy?

She grits her teeth and toggles the atmo burners. Right now Ben needs to rest, and so does she. After that…they’ll figure it out. Together.

***

With Ben still sleeping, safe, Rey pulls herself out of the cockpit, overwhelmed by so much jubilation.

Finn’s running toward her, and Poe, and then before she can process anything she’s in their arms. Poe takes her hand, their arguments forgotten in the high emotion and the boundless grief. Leia was like a mother to him.

Finn’s chin is on her shoulder, and Rey feels the moment when he opens his eyes, feels the recognition jolt through him.

“You son of a bitch,” Finn says. “You stole our skimmer. Jannah and me were stuck on that stupid bridge for hours.”

“I was in a hurry.”

Poe breaks the hug, and they all turn to Ben. In the golden light he looks terrible, bloody and drawn, but also—he looks good. Because he always looks good.

The bond thrums with nervousness. Ben’s eyes dart around like he’s certain a blaster will land at his back, like the sound and smell of so much happiness scares him. It does scare him. Happiness is always something that forced him out.

“Is that—Rey, is this…?”

“Poe,” she says, taking Ben’s hand. “Meet Ben Solo.”

Ben doesn’t offer to shake hands, which is good, because Rey doesn’t plan to let go. He’s too relieved to touch her, and she’s too relieved to feel him warm and alive.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Poe says coldly.

Right. Ben’s standing even more stiffly than his injuries need him to—awkward. What do you say to someone you tortured? Sorry?

Finn strides up to him, furious. Rey’s hand migrates toward her lightsaber. She didn’t think this could get ugly, not with her friends, but maybe it was a mistake bringing him here, maybe no one will understand what Ben’s done—

“Ben Solo, huh?” Finn asks.

Ben nods, then, like he realizes how arrogant he looks, how imperious and Kyloish, he hooks his free thumb in his waistband in a way that makes him look so much like Han Rey’s breath hitches.

“Yeah,” Ben says.

Poe stares at him, speechless, but Ben and Finn don’t take their eyes off each other. When Finn takes another step toward Ben, Ben stands tall, towering over Finn, but Finn isn’t afraid. Not this time.

“You knew I didn’t shoot on Jakku,” Finn says. “But you didn’t turn me in.”

Ben raises an eyebrow and glances at Rey. “I sensed you were different,” he says to Finn.

“You had a feeling.”

“Not a feeling. You have the Force.”

“He has the what now?” Poe asks.

Rey looks between Finn and ben. “Finn, is that true?”

Finn looks like he’s trying to decide where, exactly, he should punch Ben. Finally, though, he sighs and turns to Rey.

“Yeah. I tried to tell you. I just didn’t…I thought you might think I’m crazy. But I was gonna ask if maybe you’d teach me.”

“What?” Poe demands. “ _That’s_ what was so important you couldn’t say it in front of me?”

Finn scratches his neck. “I knew you needed me in command,” Finn says. “But I don’t know what I’m doing, and I didn’t want you to think I had some kind of, I dunno, Jedi woo-woo.”

“Jedi woo-woo,” Rey says blandly.

Poe opens his mouth to ask Finn something, but instead he just points at Finn’s chest. “We’ll talk later,” he says, and turns to Ben, jabbing a finger at his chest with a confidence Rey has to admire. Poe comes up to Ben’s shoulders.

“You,” Poe says, like this is enough of an insult, but then his face softens when he looks at Rey. “Did you—could someone just explain to me what’s going on? Last I hear you’re fighting like hell on the Death Star and now you’re holding hands?”

“I _knew it,”_ Finn says. “I knew you were Luke’s daughter. You’re cousins, aren’t you? You’re a Skywalker.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben says, face red.

“He saved me,” Rey says, squeezing Ben’s hand before he can get too angry. “He saved all of us.”

“No,” Ben says quietly as he rubs his thumb over her knuckle. “It was always you. Just you.”

“It was both of us,” Rey says.

Poe folds his arms over his chest and looks around, echoing Ben’s anxiety. "Look, you’ve got a lot of enemies here,” he says. “You’re the Supreme Leader, it’s not like people here don’t know your face.”

“I know.”

“Are you, uh, are you still the Supreme Leader?”

“No,” Ben says. He shoves his hand in his pocket and comes out holding a circular amulet. “But I still have this.”

He doesn’t hold it out to Poe, but to Finn, who takes it. “This looks like a captain’s medallion.”

“It will override any security protocol on any First Order vessel or facility. It will give you access to the broadcast systems. Tell them the Resistance has taken control. Tell them—Kylo Ren is dead.”

Rey squeezes his hand, and Ben continues.

“They’ll tear the Order apart themselves—”

A roar sounds out over the crowd, and Ben lunges into a fighting stance.

Chewie stops in front of him and growls, menacing enough to encourage the party-goers around them to take their drinking somewhere else.

Chewie glares at Ben. Ben’s jaw works, somewhere between hostile and ashamed.

“I…” he says. Then he stops. “I tried,” he says.

Rey jumps away before she’s smothered in fur. Ben stands stoic under the onslaught of a wookiee hug, and after a moment he lets his arms wrap around Chewie, closing his eyes against the emotion Rey can feel in the bond. Chewie gurgles and chirps, and a soft growl-purr emerges from near his chest.

Ben is speaking his language. Of course; he’s probably a native speaker. It’s one of so many things Rey wants to ask him about.

She wants to know him.

“Well I’ll be damned,” says a voice behind Rey. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Chewie lets Ben go, and Ben composes himself enough to face Lando Calrissian. Rey’s eyebrows knit in confusion. Do they know each other?

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, Solo.”

Under the anger of the words, Lando’s grief vibrates in the Force. He’s looking at a boy who’s lost his mother.

A boy he loves.

“Uncle,” Ben says evenly.

“Come here, Little Starfighter,” Lando says graciously as he pulls Ben into his arms. Ben looks at Rey helplessly as he allows the old man to squeeze him into a tight hug. 

“You coulda come to me, Ben,” he says as he pats Ben’s back. “When it was getting bad, you coulda asked for help.”

Ben hangs his head and slumps across Landon’s shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d help me. He said because I was Vader’s—I couldn’t get away from my destiny. He said it was too late.”

Rey’s heart breaks for him. Surrounded by family, but always alone, always cowering to the voices in his head.

“You know I woulda helped you, anything you needed, no questions asked. I wouldn’t have told your old man, or Luke, or your mom.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben says. He’s weak, in pain, recovering from—well, death—and barely holding it together.

“It’s okay, kid. Your dad was a stubborn ass, too. But you’re family.”

Ben chokes a laugh, and with a final thump on his back Lando lets Ben go. He sniffles, and when Rey reaches out for him, he brushes a hand over her shoulder, but shakes his head. _No, I’m fine, I just need a minute._

Ben blinks, takes a deep breath, and steps back to Finn.

“The legend of FN-2187 is powerful,” Ben says to him, voice deep and commanding, the voice of a leader. “Show them your face. Show them a stormtrooper leads the Resistance. They’ll follow you. That medallion will get you into the archives. Security layouts, prisoner lists, legal records—and troop records.”

Rey’s eyes go wide at the implications. “You could find the troopers' families.”

Finn swallows, nods, then stands up straight. What would his family think of him, if they met him? Would they be proud? Indifferent? Are they even alive? He holds out his hand.

“Thanks, Solo.”

Rage flashes across Ben’s features, then shame, then, hesitant, a wary kind of happiness.

He shakes Finn’s hand. “Finn,” he says.

Finn smiles so big Ben actually blushes, and Rey has never been more happy in her life. But then Finn’s smile fades, and he turns to Rey.

“You know you won’t be safe here,” Finn says. “People are mad, and even if we can forgive you, they’re gonna want somebody to pay for this.”

“That's ridiculous," Rey says. "He just saved _every single one of you."_

“I’m ready to face trial.”

“ _What_?” Rey says, so loudly a few celebrants turn to glance at her. They move away. They usually do; Rey’s got a reputation for a temper.

Rey grabs Ben’s arm. “I did _not_ raise you from the dead to see you rot in prison for war crimes.”

Ben frowns down at her, beautiful and sad, but at peace. “I committed war crimes.”

“And you’re not going to make them any better if you go to jail,” she says.

Chewie growls, and Lando nods. “If you need to lay low somewhere, kid, I can help you do that.”

But Ben only has eyes for her.

“Rey,” he says, “I have to do this.”

Rey yanks him down to her by the hair.

“No you don’t,” she whispers against his mouth. “This isn’t the way.”

“I can’t come back from this,” he whispers back.

She splays a hand out over his heart. “It’s not too late, Ben.”

Poe, who’s remained unusually quiet as he watches the proceedings, steps forward and coughs. Rey, after a moment of glaring into his wide eyes, lets him go. Everyone is staring at her.

Fine. Let them stare. She wants who she wants, and he _deserves_ to be wanted.

Still, she flushes a little at the dreamy looks on Finn, Lando, and Chewie’s faces.

Poe runs his fingers through his hair.

“Look. We could use people like you,” he says. “The Sith fleet’s dead but the Order’s still out there. We need good pilots. Leaders. There’s plenty of people out there who’d rather follow you than a bunch of rebel scum.”

Ben studies him, brows knitted. Rey’s heart speeds up. “You want me to join the Resistance.”

“Yeah,” Poe says. “You’d have to take my orders. Or at least pretend to, I guess, since it’s not like Rey takes my orders. And if you work with us, whatever happens once the war’s over, you’ll have a solid record behind you. You could make a real difference. You’re Leia’s son, and what you’ve done is the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. We’d—we’d be lucky to have you. And, uh, we don’t really judge people on their pasts here.”

Ben frowns down at Poe’s outstretched hand, then turns to Rey.

Rey is afraid to hope. “It’s your choice,” she says. She means it. She does.

“But,” he says, looking down at her.

“But what? I just kissed you and we raised each other from the dead. We have a Force connection that stretches across space and time. Obviously I want you to stay.”

Ben’s palm is warm on her cheek, and hesitant, like he’s afraid she’ll push him away, like he can’t believe she wants him.

He smiles.

Rey smiles.

Their lips meet, and they’re hot, and wet, and the future stretches out ahead of them like a sparkling ocean, and Rey sincerely hopes the thousands of Jedi ghosts inhabiting their spirits aren’t listening to her thoughts right now.

“Why, it’s Young Master Solo! Hello, you probably don’t recognize me. I am C-3PO—”

Ben waves his hand and Threepio goes sailing across the grass with a wail.

“Huh,” Poe says as Ben hoists her around his waist, massaging her thighs. “I really thought they were cousins.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluffiest, most wish-fulfillmenty end of TROS.

The party rages around them, but Ben and Rey ignore it. Maz pulls Ben aside for a few moments, and Ben returns, stuffing something in his pocket and holding back tears. Rey grabs water, food, and a blanket and she walks with him through the forest, toward the green place where she trains. They spot Finn and Poe through the undergrowth, laughing, kissing, Finn pressing Poe against the bark of a young tree in the sunset.

Rey grins, but they continue on in without saying anything, alone with their own thoughts. Ben’s grief is strong here, the place where Leia lived, where she died. Rey gives him silence and space.

Night falls, and as the stars come out through the trees, Rey walks with her own grief. She won. She lived. But she is different now. Not because of her bloodline or her grandfather or even the sense that she’s stretching out toward the sky on top of the roots of some ancient power she can never understand. It’s more subtle than that. Like before, she was looking for a map to somewhere, and now she’s found herself there and she’s not quite sure what to make of it.

Ben takes her hand. They pick their way through the singing insects and the heavy perfume of flowers and the endless, hopeful green, and she knows without speaking that he understands.

They just stop on the path, and Ben’s fingers dance over her shoulder, down to the bare skin of her bicep, the leather band she wears to cover the scar. She watches with curiosity as he tugs it off.

His own scar is gone. She healed it. But when the band comes off, he smooths his thumb over the pocked skin there and smiles. The mark on her skin, like two hands, is still there. He presses his lips to it, grateful. Rey's grateful too; not all scars are painful, and you can't kill the past.

They light a fire with Leia’s lightsaber and sit, not across from each other, but side-by-side on a moss-covered log, watching the fire, counting the stars. He offers her water, and she drinks, but when she puts it down he’s staring at her.

Gently, he reaches out, palm up. Remembering.

Rey slips her fingers into his and smiles.

Rey strokes her hands up and down his chest, running her fingers along the weave of his sweater, tracing the hole she made. Ben watches her like he senses what she’s thinking, and for a moment the deep well of sadness she saw on Crait passes over his face. Rey senses what happened with his father. There might be forgiveness, but hate leaves its own scars, and they’ll take a long time to heal.

She flattens her palm on his chest and presses her forehead to his.

She traces the hem of his sweater, and dips her hands underneath, touching the bare skin she’s imagined touching since the Force connected them that night.

Ben watches her, senses her hugger in the Force. There are so many things he could say: you deserve better, I can’t be what you want me to be.

Instead, he peels off his shirt and presses her palm against the bare skin over his heart. _Please,_ he seems to ask.

Rey leans forward to crush her lips against his. He throws the blanket and down and moans and lowers her down into the leaves, baring her shoulders, plastering kisses on the skin below her collarbone, helping her shrug off her tunic.

They take their time. They have so much time, now, and they want this, the first for both of them, to be good.

Neither says a word. They say what they have to say through gentle fingers, brushes of lips against the thin skin of inner thigh, soft moans against sweat-flecked chins. Ben is huge and clumsy and strong and terrified, Rey is nervous, unsure, comforting, whispering sounds of encouragement against his throat, digging her nails into massive, safe arms.

When it’s done, they’re filthy and slick, and everything is perfect. They lie together, quiet in each other’s arms, and watch the stars until morning, when Ben whispers, “let’s go home.”

***

Rey grunts under the load of a heavy cargo box as she passes by the landing deck, where Finn is debriefing the latest batch of stormtrooper defectors. They’re all stripping off their armor, throwing it on a pile for recycling.

“You all need to think hard about your new names,” Finn calls out to them. Rey can’t help swelling with pride at the gleam of the new lightsaber at his belt. “You’re not a number anymore. Every single one of you has made a choice: you’re not gonna be what they made you to be.”

“They stole our families from us,” Jannah says. Rey shrugs her pack, listening; it’s been good, to hear Jannah’s voice in the Resistance. It’s been good to see her and Rose happy together. “They told us we were nothing without them. But what they took from us doesn’t define us. From now on, you’re rebels, and you are whatever you want to be.”

Her voice fades as Rey rounds a transport and the _Falcon_ comes into view. Chewie waves her over, and BB-8 beeps a welcome, with Poe trailing behind him.

“So how long is this gonna take, exactly?” Poe demands as Rey stomps up the _Falcon’s_ ramp with her cargo.

“Hard to say. If this really is an awakening, it’s happening all over the galaxy.”

“It still seems like if the emperor was bottling up some kind of power and now it’s just _out_ there, that can’t be good.

“It is good,” Rey says, huffing as she lets down the cargo.

“How do you know?”

Rey turns to him, shakes her head.

“I just…I just know.”

Poe crosses his arms over his chest, frowning, then he points at her. “You know what you are? You’re difficult.”

Rey rolls her eyes and uses the Force to shove the cargo into the back.

“You just can’t live without Ben for a few weeks.”

“A few _weeks?”_

“I rest my case.”

“Who’s gonna train the new pilots? Who’s gonna keep the First Order deserters in line?”

“You could. Or Finn could.”

“We’re a little busy here.”

“Right, well, we’re off investigating a disturbance in the Force that affects the whole galaxy, so, you know, I see how you think we’re not busy.”

“Who’s gonna keep my ships running?” Rose says as she tops the ramp. Rey grins at her; unlike Poe, she actually grabbed some supplies to help them load.

“I’m not the only competent mechanic,” Rey says.

Rose purses her lips and crosses her arms. “I like the braids,” she says, like she knows what Rey's up to.

Rey touches the braids winding their way over her head. Rose knows who did them.

“The braids are nice, but Rey, just hurry, alright? You guys keep morale up. People never get sick of watching you guys doing lightsaber stuff.”

A crash makes them jump, and then the tell-tale thump of huge feet trotting up the ramp.

“It’s not my _fault!”_ Ben yells. “ _I’m_ not the one who installed that compressor—”

He stops, surprised to find half the Resistance upper command in the _Falcon’s_ lounge. Chewie almost bumps into him.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Rey was just telling us you’re planning to be gone for a few weeks.”

“What? _”_ He tosses his hair in a gesture that makes Rey’s stomach tighten. “We’ve got reports from five sites, plus our first stop. If we do this right we can do it in—” He finally catches Rey’s eye, and his cheeks go red. He’s wearing his too-long hair in a short ponytail. “A few weeks.”

At Rose and Poe’s look, Rey presses her lips together. Chewie growls in irritation.

“Fine. Week and a half, tops,” she says, then, to get the attention off them, “that’s the last of it?”

Chewie roars his assent.

“Take care out there,” Rose says.

“Tell Finn to make room for a few more padawans,” Rey says.

“You got it,” she says, smiling.

"Don't look at me like that," Ben says to Chewie. "We'll be back soon." Chewie chirps a reply. "We _will_ be safe. We're fine. Yes, we have enough food."

Eventually, they shoo everybody out.

Ben slumps down in the pilots’ seat and starts toggling the ignition sequence. “A few weeks, huh?”

Rey grins, sweeping her eyes over his body. “I think we can find things to do.”

His face shifts from surprise to hunger. For a moment, he looks very much like Kylo Ren, and his hand brushes her thigh. “Whatever you say, Empress.”

Rey smirks at him. As soon as they’re in hyperspace, he’s going to call her Empress and insist on kneeling to her.“Ready?”

Ben places his huge hand over hers on the throttle. Together, they punch it.

***

Tatooine is a hellhole. Touching down on the sand feels like descending into some diseased body, but there’s a strange feeling to it. Like a fever’s nearing its end, and whatever’s been plaguing it is almost sweated out.

This isn’t easy for Ben. He lays his mother’s lightsaber in the sand and steps away while Rey sets Anakin’s, Luke’s, the one she was so afraid to think of as hers, beside it.

“There’s so much pain here,” Rey says. “So much emptiness. Are you sure this is right?”

Ben keeps his eyes on the two lightsabers. His face reveals hurt, uncertainty, but then—peace.

“This is the way to heal,” he says quietly. He raises his hand, and the sand begins to move.

Rey raises her own hand, and together they watch the sabers disappear under the sand.

When he’s done, he kneels in the sand, splaying his hand over the depression that marks the burial place of his mother’s weapon, his uncle’s, his grandfather’s. He closes his eyes and unhooks his own new saber from his belt.

Finding the crystal turned out to be easy part—Ben mined that crystal as a padawan, he bled it when the time came, and when he stood on the bridge and held out his hand, it answered his call.

Healing it had been hard. It was something he had to do alone, and when he came back, his eyes were haunted. But he did it. And now things are better.

The violet blade explodes in his hand as he says his silent prayer of thanks, of regret, of hope. It glows brilliant in the last seconds of the desert night.

Then he stands. Looks at Rey, nods.

Her own saber is yellow. Like the old temple guards, like the suns just cresting the horizon. When it glows in her hand Rey takes a deep breath, like something enormous has fallen off her shoulders.

“Do you feel it?” he asks.

Rey smiles.

“It’s waking up. It’s healing.”

Ben smiles. He extinguishes his saber and reaches into his pocket. When Rey recognizes the object she’s so startled she puts out her own blade.

Leia’s ring. Maz must’ve given it to him.

He holds it for a while, and she wraps her hand around his. But he stops her, grasps her palm between his thumb and forefinger, asking.

Her brows pinch: she can’t accept this.

He holds her hand and looks into her eyes.

 _“Be with me,”_ he says, eyes shining and hopeful and lost.

She guides his hand, letting him slip the ring onto her finger. “I love you, Ben Solo.”

His face shines with unguarded joy as he squeezes her hand.

“I love you, too.”

He kisses her until she backs away, brows knit. “Does that make me Rey Solo?”

Ben scratches his neck, nervous. “Or something else,” he says.

Rey frowns. “You don’t think I deserve to be a Solo?”

Ben shakes his head.

“They called my dad Solo because he was alone. I think,” he strokes his thumb across her cheek, “he’d want us to choose something else. Both of us.”

Rey starts to answer, but a disturbance in the Force alerts them to a figure approaching. They watch in silence as an old woman rides up, kicking up sand behind her. She stops and examines them.

“There’s been nobody for so long,” says the woman. “Who are you?”

“I’m Rey,” she says gently.

The woman narrows her eyes, suspicious of the strangers.

“Rey who?”

She turns to Ben, who watches her, open and curious, like he’s saying _it’s your choice._

Her grandfather stole a chance at family from his. Her grandfather stole Leia’s family, and Luke’s. _Skywalker_ has been a cursed name, born from this cursed place.

But the Force is strong here. Healing. And it’s time for the Palpatines to die, to give the Skywalkers back their name.

She takes Ben’s hand. “Rey Skywalker.”

The woman nods, like this is the right answer, then taps her ride and canters away.

Ben squeezes her hand, and, together, they walk forward into the light.

The sand shifts. If they looked back to the buried lightsabers, which they don’t, they would see the trickle of a newborn spring, and beside it a bed green shoots, fragile but persistent, stretching up toward the rising suns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised smut but this was too ooey-gooey sweet for really gross stuff and I really wanted to post before Life Day. Happy Christmas, Happy Channukah, and thank you for reading! I'm @LilanderSW on Twitter if you want to say hi.
> 
> (I'm behind on responding to comments because I'm with my own family and I'm also getting married next week, but I'll get to everyone eventually! You comments make me so happy!)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm @LilanderSW on Twitter.


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